


I Tried To Warn You Just to Stay Away

by Hillbilly_Leprechaun



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Family, Leaving town, M/M, Magic, Sportacus is an elf, can you guess which one?, disguises, duh - Freeform, title's based off a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-08-28 01:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hillbilly_Leprechaun/pseuds/Hillbilly_Leprechaun
Summary: Robbie's leaving town for a while, and he may just pull off his greatest disguise yet!





	1. You Knew You Should Have Stayed

Sportacus has been at the park all day, surrounded by the kids. It has been half a year since the last gala, only this one will be one of the largest. Not just elves like he will be there, but hobgoblins, faeries, pixies and whatnot as well. The dwarves are hosting and have decided it will be held in costume. Stephanie, Pixel, Jives, Stingy, Trixie and Ziggy are unaware of their hero’s double life – they think he’s going to a Heroes Convention – and they want him to stay and play with them. It’s getting close to dinnertime now, and Sportacus is making a last-minute run around the park before he needs to climb up his ladder.

 

Happy that the town will rest easy under the watchful eyes of the mayor and the self-proclaimed villain, Sportacus starts up to the airship. Below him, he hears the steady hum of a revving engine. Collecting a pair of night-vision binoculars, Sportacus searches through the murky town. He comes to rest his eyes on a dark purple motorcycle. On which, a lanky, leather-clad man sits, adjusting some bags. The outfit sticks to the man, over undiscovered muscles, and Sportacus desperately wishes he had met this man before. As though listening to his silent prayers, the mystery man removes his helmet to briefly scan the town.

 

_Oh, shit. It’s almost eight. Why the hell isn’t he in his ship?_

 

He tries to place his helmet back on and take off, but the blue jumping bean has already advanced. Sighing, he sets the helmet on the handlebars, ready for the questions.

 

“Wow, Robbie!” His voice is breathless. “I didn’t know you could ride!”

 

Robbie only nods, lightly drumming a hand over one of the handles. Sportacus frowns.

 

“Where are you going in the middle of the night?”

 

“It’s barely even the _start_ of the night.” Robbie rolls his eyes. “And I’m going out of town.”

 

“Oh? I was hoping you could help look”

 

“No.” Robbie cuts him off, pulling his helmet over his head and opening the small guard shield. “I’m not looking after the brats. I’m leaving town for a while. At least a week.”

 

“You’re coming back though, right?” Sportacus asks, tone wavering.

 

“We’ll see.”

 

He revs up the engine, slamming the shield down, and he takes off. Sportacus is left staring at the dust before heading up to his aircraft. After all, he’ll be gone for maybe a week too.

 

                ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Robbie pulls into a broken down alleyway in Mayhem Town, removing his helmet only after scanning the area. He dismounts and uses basic magic to shrink the bike and helmet. They’re carefully placed in his bag as he ducks into an abandoned dentist’s office, so he can work up an intimidating glamour. Robbie dislikes direct conflict, so this glamour that he’s grown accustomed to using isn’t one of his favorites. Within a few minutes, Robbie’s raven black hair is slicked back. His gray eyes are now a startling cobalt, though they are hidden behind reflecting black shades. He wears a faded white tank top with some dried blood stains, carefully protruding as though it has come from a few times. Over the tank top is a patched black leather jacket with a dark purple trim.

 

He wears faded blue jeans that fit snug around his ass. He’s also wearing old, gray socks and worn-out cleats with some blood in the traction. Robbie throws his bag on a shoulder, flexing his hands. On his dominant, the right, is a set of brass knuckles with yet another patch of dry blood. He conjures up a pack of smokes, setting a cigarette at his lip line and lighting up. Sure he’s not about to set off a coughing fit, he adds a flask of vodka and a switchblade into his inside shirt pocket. The faerie shakes himself off and heads out into the alley. Not ten minutes later, he’s approached by an offbeat thug carrying a lead pipe.

 

“Hey, Twinkie.” He nods to Robbie. “How much for an hour?”

 

“Piss off.” The man’s voice is darker and more gravelly than normal.

 

The thug frowns, raising his pipe threateningly. “How bout you give me what I want, or I’ll _make_ you.”

 

“Try to hit me, and that pipe goes up your ass.”

 

Apparently, the thug doesn’t believe him. A lopsided grin appears on his face, and he gestures for two of his friends, who had been lying in wait. Robbie pointedly stops walking, simply facing them without a single word. The leader grins smugly, walking over and unbuckling his belt. Robbie grabs his belt effortlessly and smacks the leader in the face with the buckle. He falls down instantly, and his friends advance on Robbie. The faerie punches one in the face and wraps the belt around the other’s throat, strangling him. When the leader recovers and comes after Robbie with the pipe, the older man lets go of the belt and grabs the pipe when the offending object is inches from his face.

 

“You should know something about me.” He explains as he shoves the thug against the wall, pinning his hands against his back. “I never lie.”

 

In an instant, the thug’s pants are dropped, and Robbie shoves the pipe into the other’s ass. He cries out in pain and desperation, but Robbie shoves him to the ground instead. He oversteps the other two supposed thugs and picks up his discarded cigarette. He smooths it out and breathes in the tobacco. This persona of his doesn’t take shit, and he makes sure everyone is clear on that. The streets grow deadly quiet, and there isn’t a single solidary building not on the brink of shambles. A familiar figure begins trailing the Lazytown resident.

 

“Long way from home, Baby.”

 

Robbie resists lashing out at the sugary voice behind him; he knows it’s futile. Instead, he keeps walking ahead. He stares at the figures shadow out of the corner of his peripheral vision. The figure has choppy hair under a bandana, and it is twirling some sort of a switchblade. It shows a jean jacket covering half the top frame and uneven blue jeans covering some of the bottom frame. The tall high-heeled boots make the look as the figure easily walks across a steel pipe railing.

 

“Where’s Gunnar?” Robbie asks eventually.

 

“Oh, Merrick!” The figure jumps down to match strides with the Lazytowner. “I _knew_ you cared.”

 

“Barely.” He scoffs.

 

“That lump of filth is no longer my brother.”

 

Robbie chuckles lightly. This girl, Ingrid, had been Robbie’s closest friend when his parents deserted him and his brother when they were children. _Robbie had been six and his brother was twelve. His brother easily suited up like a girl to charm the boys around town. One time, his brother came back abused and beaten. Robbie had created his first disguise: bad boy Merrick. Merrick wore sunglasses because Robbie couldn’t glamour his eyes. He wore an old black shirt with blood stains that Robbie found in a trash can. He wore ripped blue jeans, and he wandered through town with a baseball bat. Robbie hadn’t been taught much fighting, but Merrick could wield a mean bat._

_Merrick snuck out of the old warehouse where the kids made their home after the eldest had gone to sleep. The youngest prowled around, finding a group of maybe ten-year-olds cornering a kid his age. Gritting his teeth, Merrick forced a new, dangerous voice out of his throat. He brought the bat down the backs of two sets of legs. He shoved the end into one of their faces, getting fresh blood on the bat. The boys ran off, and the disguised boy helped the other to his feet._

_“You new around here?”_

_Merrick dusted the bat on the ground, unsuccessfully ridding it of blood. “Passing through.”_

_The kid looked at him strangely. “Well… thanks.” He held out his hand. “Gunnar.”_

_“Merrick.” He nodded to the kid, unwilling to shake his hand._

_Gunnar nodded as though he understood. “Got a place to stay?”_

_Merrick nodded, and the kids parted ways. Only two months later, Merrick had been travelling the streets with his disguised ‘brother’ Gladys. They had come across a very young girl, nothing above three. She had blood in her hair, shaking, wet and in an alley by a dumpster. The boys had run up to her, seeing a woman’s discarded body not a few feet away from her. Merrick managed to get her address out of her, and Gladys had picked her up to carry. The girl had eventually run out of tears and energy, falling asleep against Gladys’ chest. Merrick led the way to a deserted library in shambles._

_A figure in the shadows had driven a broken golf club into Merrick’s knee, causing the latter to flip over and bring his bat against the other’s neck – strangling him. After only a couple seconds, Merrick realized who it was and let go. He’d explained the girl’s predicament, and Gunnar had introduced Ingrid. The boys and girl had quickly formed their own gang along the streets, until Gladys had enough and left the town when she/he turned seventeen. Merrick and Gunnar had been eleven, and Ingrid had been only eight. Her hair had been dyed hot pink as tribute, so she would say._

 

“He’s out of the gang?”

 

Ingrid sighs, stopping at an old bench. She climbs on it, throwing her legs around the back and tossing her head backward. ‘Merrick’ sits next to her with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I haven’t seen Gladys since she left. Then _you_ leave in the middle of the night, chasing some _sewer monster_ … and now Gunnar’s done nothing but loafing around and trying the new junk that hits the market. Ever since Wendi died...”

 

“Damn.” Robbie lets it all sink in. He remembers the ‘sewer monster’ vividly, though it’s nothing he can share with Ingrid or the inhabitants of Lazytown. “Wait, Wendi?”

 

Wendi, or Wendell, had been Ingrid’s husband. Robbie could barely believe it when he found out Little Ingrid was getting married. They’d left for Cozy Town to raise a family. Wendi was still in a gang, however, and he had been an enforcer, similar to Merrick. They’d gotten along like brothers. Last Robbie heard, which had to have been at least a decade now, was Wendi getting out of the business and Ingrid being pregnant.

 

“Yes… he had one last job at a crash site. But someone went back. I’m sure you can guess who.”

 

Robbie closes his eyes. “Ellis.”

 

Ingrid nods. “The one and only. I swear it’s like magic how he always appeared when we needed nothing to do with him.”

 

She suddenly sits upright, pulling herself to her feet. A trolley car squeaks by, holding foul, old leftovers. Ingrid winks to Merrick, brandishing a pocketknife. Merrick understands the nonverbal language as they lie in wait. Soon as the cart comes into view, the two threaten the salesman for all he’s worth, making way with several smushed sandwiches that could pass as sloppy joe’s given the right circumstance, and roughly thirty dollars in cash. Ingrid then leads Merrick towards a row of slightly less dilapidated buildings. She climbs into one easily, only to be bombarded by two children – a boy and a girl. They hold off in shock when Robbie follows.

 

“Who’s he?” The boy stares at him confidently.

 

“Old friend.” Ingrid answers sharply. “Valerie, Cicero. Meet Merrick.”

 

Merrick nods tersely. The kids silently accept their meals, nodding back to Robbie. Ingrid glances over, noting that her friend hasn’t moved an inch from the doorway.

 

“I take it you’re leaving again?”

 

Merrick shrugs. “Places to be. People to see.”

 

She sighs, understanding. “Alright. Don’t be a stranger. And damn it, don’t you dare get killed.”

 

He places a hand on hers, leaning in to kiss her cheek as though to complete the promise. He takes another look at the kids, now eating their meals as though it were a gift from Heaven. He heads down two more aisles of decrepit neighborhoods before turning in an alley and unshrinking his bike to normal size. He takes another long look at Mayhem Town before placing on his helmet and revving up his bike.


	2. Why'd You Come?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie. Iceland. Glaepurs.

Maybe a day later, Robbie comes across a narrow one-end alleyway. Revving up his bike and praying that his brother’s magic still holds up, Robbie rams himself into the wall – emerging in a blackened tunnel on the other side. While he’s thankful to be out of the city with the most increased gang violence, he is now basically in a wormhole of sorts with vile creatures both dead and alive. Keeping his helmet secure, Robbie places a mild ward around himself and the bike, driving down the unsteady pathway. In what could be five minutes but could also be construed as five days, Robbie finds the needed gateway, skidding to a stop just inside Iceland.

 

Stepping off, Robbie first makes a glamour over his bike. It looks more like a bright-spirited, lavender hovercraft. He shrinks the helmet, hiding it away. Robbie allows himself to be rid of all glamours – from Merrick to Robbie Rotten. His spine cracks as he straightens to his full height of six foot three. His eyes shimmer more silver and lilac than the basic haunting gray. His ears elongate, awkwardly curling at the tips. His shoulders burn from where he once had wings. Recalling it to be a fancy dress gala, Robbie decides on a hot pink blouse that almost looks metallic, complimenting a pair of baby blue athletic slacks to mark Ingrid and… someone else he can’t put a finger on.

 

With the costume intact, he hops onto his hovercraft and sets his sights on his Court. Year after year, his family  _always_  gathers at the maple tree grove. The rich sugar it leaves behind does wonders for their circulatory systems. As he approaches, his brother is the first to notice him. The older brother is wearing bright makeup, a bubblegum pink dress that only reaches his knees, with a turquoise ribbon tied at his waist akin to a fashionable belt. He is wearing matching teal rhinestone high-heeled boots and fishnet stockings. Their mother keeps a cool façade, wearing a royal maroon dress.

 

“Robin! You made it!”

 

“When have I ever not, Glanni?” Robbie sighs halfheartedly.

 

“I  _love_  what you’ve done with yourself, Little Bird!” He helps Robbie out of the aircraft, hugging him tightly. When Robbie’s had enough, he lightly burns his brother to step off. “Sorry about that, Rob.”

 

Robbie simply nods, back hunching over upon impulse. He straightens within a second. Glanni is only half a foot shorter than his younger brother when they stand straight – unless Glanni is wearing heels. Which is most of the time.

 

“You should try heels.” Glanni comments on Robbie’s attire. “If you can walk without falling, that is.”

 

Taking it as a challenge, Robbie instantly glamours his basic black shoes into strapping four-inch heels minus the boots. He removes his socks, placing them in the bag with his helmet. He again towers over his brother, who only scoffs.

 

“Big deal. Let’s see you walk in them.”

 

“I’ll do you one better.”

 

Robbie grins with a mischievous look in his eyes. Glanni barely gets a word out when his brother takes his arm, guiding him to an open space by the trees. Robbie leads them in a quick-paced tango, gathering a bit of a passing audience. Having fun at his brother’s expense, Robbie bows with a smile.

 

“So much for a lazy villain.” Glanni grumbles.

 

Robbie frowns. “That’s just a persona. It’s not  _me_ , Glanni. Understand?”

 

His brother backs off from the intimidating glare. “Sorry. Jeez.”

 

                --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It soon becomes time for the faerie courts to arrive in the gala. Glanni glamours his eyes to make them an almost hypnotic cerulean, adding a pale pink mask. Robbie glamours his eyes to remove the silver, adding a pastel green mask. With the dwarves hosting the party, they are the first to be introduced. Also already in attendance are the pixies, the shadows, the elves, the nymphs and the imps. The Seelie courts are introduced first, and then comes the Unseelies.

 

“… from the Fellblood Court, former queen Rosalind, Glanni and Robin Glaepur.”

 

Across the room, the numbered elves are gathered. All must be introduced before the gala may officially begin and guests are granted to mingle. One of the elves to be noteworthy is dressed in white and olive green Amish countryside garb. He wears a bright blue mask to compare alongside his similar, uncharmed eyes. He keeps an eye on the Glaepurs, Robin in particular, as the rest of the creatures are introduced to the guests. When the King Dwarf announces the gala to begin, said elf bounds toward the specific faerie court.

 

“Your stalker is coming this way.” Glanni whispers to his brother.

 

“The ogling elf?” Robbie shakes his head. “No, he  _had_  to be after you.”

 

Glanni shakes his head as the elf taps Robbie’s shoulder. The younger brother grins despite himself, and Glanni mouths ‘toldja so’ before materializing away. Robbie turns to face his apparent stalker… only for his mouth to widen in shock. The elf seems oblivious to this.

 

“Robin, right?”

 

 _He doesn’t recognize me. The eyes! Idiot didn’t glamour his eyes!_  Robbie nods.

 

The elf grins. “I’m Number Ten.”

 

“No kidding.”

 

Robbie has never been more thankful for his voice changing with the glamours. His regular voice is slightly higher and more melodic. He makes a move to the snack table when Sportacus speaks up again.

 

“You don’t like these parties much, huh?”

 

“Not really.” Robbie confesses.

 

“Want to skip out?”

 

Robbie raises an eyebrow, lifting a strawberry shortcake cookie and an oatmeal cookie from the table. “Lead the way, Tiny Ten.”

 

Sportacus only grins at the nickname, nodding his head to follow.  _Wow, the cutest guy at the gala and he already agreed to skip out with me. Calm your jets, Sport. He doesn’t know anything about you yet. You don’t know anything about him yet._

 

Robbie pays no attention to the stares he’s being given. He basically forgets about the cookies in his hands, only staring straight ahead so as not to lose the quick elf in the crowd.  _Why am I following Sportakook? Maybe he’s not so bad when he doesn’t have a lot of brats flaunting about? I doubt it, but I should give it a try. And maybe I can get my hands on some alcohol when we’re somewhere else. Or at least some cider._

 

Sportacus eventually leads Robbie to the rooftop. It’s a little cold, and Robbie instantly snaps his fingers to relay a blanket over his shoulders. He causes another to appear, so he can sit on the chilly rooftop. Robbie glances to the sky, careful not to look over the edge. He sits down and bites into one of the cookies. The taste sends him to a happy place and he sets it in the air beside him. He glances to the other in aversion.

 

“Shit, I picked up a  _sugarless_  cookie.” Robbie knows he’d done it purposely, as he twirls the cookie in the air. “Want it, Sports Elf?”

 

Sportacus’ eyes gleam. “Yes, please. Are you going to eat yours?”

 

“I’ll get to it.” Robbie nods. “I ate on the way.”

 

Sportacus nods, moving about on the balls of his feet. Exasperatedly, Robbie calls out to him with a familiar glint in his eyes.

 

“Quit the teetering and sit on the damn blanket.”

 

“Sorry, Robbie.” Sportacus lowers his head, taking a seat across from the faerie.

 

Robbie snaps his head up at his Lazytown name. He glares through squinted eyes. “What the  _hell_  did you just call me?”

 

“Just Robbie --- oh! I mean,  _Robin_. I’m sorry.”

 

Unless a faerie gives permission, it is not acceptable for someone to call him or her by a nickname. It’s as rude as a human sticking up their middle finger.

 

“You, you just remind me of someone. I’m sorry. Robin. I know that.”

 

Robbie nods, more at peace. He takes another bite of his cookie. “It’s beautiful up here.”

 

Sportacus nods with a soft smile. “I always thought so. In about three hours, we’ll see the Aurora Borealis.”

 

“ _Three_   _hours_?” Robbie scoffs. “You better have some alcohol up here if I’m going to stay here  _that_  long.”

 

Sportacus sheepishly shows two jugs of cider. “Honey cider. Will that keep you up here?”

 

Robbie grabs a jug, takes a large sip, swishes it in his mouth and spits it back into the jug. Sportacus looks on in mild disgust, which quickly changes to awe when the cider swiftly turns to wine.

 

“I’ve never seen anything like that before. But why did you make it into wine?”

 

“It’s one of the sugarier ports of alcohol I enjoy.” He isn’t sure why he’s spilling so much; maybe it’s gratitude for getting him out of the party. “I don’t drink much, aside from this and flavored vodka. If I’m going to get wasted, I need to keep up my energy, hence the sugar.”

 

Sportacus smiles lightly, content with the explanation. “I need fruits to keep me energized. We call it sportscandy, since I could go into a near coma if I ingest too much  _actual_  candy.”

 

Robbie nods, already aware of this. “So, what do you want to do for three hours, Sport-y Ten?” He catches himself clumsily at the last second.

 

“Well… there  _is_  this little game that I play back home with the town children…”

 

Robbie silently raises an eyebrow, wondering what they could get into on the rooftop of a gathering.

 

“It’s called Truth or Dare.”


	3. You Don't Know the Half of the Abuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s really not too much of a plot in here, and I’ll recap on the next chapter. 
> 
> Robbie and Sportacus are going to play Truth or Dare for three hours – with Sport getting tipsy on honey cider and Robbie getting drunk on wine... and secrets spilling…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spiceyhot left a comment: "Awww come on, we so need more. You left as at the beginning of truth or dare how villainous of you."
> 
> Perhaps not "Villain Number One" status, but villainous indeed...

“Who asks first?” Robbie smirks.

 

“I’ll go.” Sportacus smiles. “Truth or dare?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“What’s your favorite color?”

 

He starts laughing. “That? That’s all you want to ask me?”

 

“You _always_ start off with easy truths and easy dares. It’s how the game works.”

 

“Purple.” He nods. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

 

“Truth.”

 

 _There is so much I could get him to spill right now. But I can’t ask him things Robbie would know. I can only ask him things Robin would know about. And that doesn’t give a lot of room…_ “Alright, what was the last lie you told?”

 

Sportacus frowns. _I don’t lie_ is on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it. “When I told the townspeople that I was going to a heroes Convention.”

 

“Sounds like a gang of idiots.”

 

“They are not.” Sportacus insists. “It’s your turn now.”

 

“Fine. Dare me.”

 

Sportacus grins. “I dare you to roll across the roof from here to that satellite.”

 

Robbie glances to the antennae in question. It’s only about six feet away. Grumbling lightly, Robbie lies on his stomach and rolls to the satellite. Sportacus giggles when Robbie instantly springs to his feet, so he can walk back and sit down.

 

“Done. Truth or dare?”

 

“I’ll take a dare as well.”

 

Robbie grins mischievously. He materializes a couple ice cubes, handing them to the elf. “Drop these down your shirt and leave them there.”

 

Sportacus frowns, forgetting that he is playing with a magical faerie. Still, he accepts the ice, gasping when the freezing items fall down his bare chest. Of all the days to go commando…

 

“Okay, your turn.”

 

“Truth.” Robbie shrugs.

 

“What is your favorite season of the year?”

 

“Autumn.” He answers instantly. “Kids in town are back in school, the leaves change; it isn’t so hot, but also not too cold.” He coughs lightly. “Truth or dare?”

 

Squirming from the last dare, he picks truth.

 

“Uh, what’s your favorite place to visit?”

 

“Well, I like it _here_. But… I also like Canada.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“It’s so pretty.”

 

“And full of maple trees.” Robbie agrees.

 

Sportacus chuckles lightly. “Your turn.”

 

“I suppose I could take another dare.”

 

“I dare you to belly dance.”

 

“Do I have to show my stomach?”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

“I’d rather drink my wine.”

 

Catching sarcasm, Sportacus reaches for Robbie’s shirt, but the other smacks his hands away. “I’m serious. I don’t show my stomach. New rule: forfeit means you drink.”

 

Robbie takes a long gulp of his wine and then turns to face the elf. “Truth or dare?”

 

Sportacus purses his lips in thought. “I’m sorry, Robin. And deal. Dare.”

 

Robbie snaps his fingers, holding a jar of melted cheese and a spoon. “I dare you to eat three spoonfuls of this.”

 

Sportacus makes an awkward squeak and his eyes move toward his honey cider. Finally, he reaches out for the jar and easily peels off the lid. It clatters on the roof, and Robbie watches him in mild amusement. Sportacus digs his spoon in the jar and pulls it out with gooey cheese. Taking another glance toward the cider, he pushes a spoonful into his mouth. He tries to chew the glob and swallows. When he looks at the cheese again, he sets it down and reaches for his cider. Robbie can hardly control his laughter as Sportacus swallows a large gulp of cider to rid his mouth of the unpleasant cheese taste.

 

“Very funny. It’s your turn.”

 

“Truth.” Robbie agrees, wiping a tear from his eye.

 

“If you weren’t here, where would you be?”

 

Robbie shrugs. “Working on some junk piece of machinery. Or drinking myself into a stupor.”

 

“That sounds terrible, Robin. Don’t you have a friend to play with?”

 

Robbie’s face flushes. “That’s _two_ questions. And it’s your turn.”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Tell me about your last girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

 

Sportacus blushes furiously. “Well, I’ve never had a girlfriend. Never even _liked_ a girl that way. And I’ve never had a boyfriend, either. Though, there _is_ a boy who I may have a crush on.”

 

“And?”

 

“You didn’t ask me that. and I already answered your question.” Robbie struggles not to facepalm.

 

Sportacus puts his hands on his hips. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

 

“How about a dare?”

 

Sportacus smiles. He reaches into his pocket, and somehow pulls out a baby carrot. “I dare you to eat this.”

 

Robbie looks ready to gag. However, not wanting to forfeit over a small vegetable, he snatches it out of the elf’s hand and chokes it down. He opens his mouth and wiggles his tongue as proof that he’s eaten it. He glares at Sport. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

 

“Dare.”

 

Robbie smirks in a way that has Sportacus highly intimidated. With a swirl of his hand, Robbie adds false floppy ears to Sportacus’, dabs a black dot on his nose, and adds a collar that reads the name ‘Ten.’ “I dare you to come with me to the party and behave like a little dog for ten full seconds.”

 

Sportacus almost whines. Robbie quickly adds a leash to the collar, tugging on it a little. Sportacus lets out an actual whine, but Robbie finds it exhilarating. Sighing, Sportacus agrees. Robbie causes a stopwatch to appear on his arm and he sends them downstairs to the party. They appear to the side of what has become a dance floor, in perfect view of Sportacus’ brothers and Glanni as well. The latter nearly chokes on his spiked punch. One of the elf’s brothers tries hard not to guffaw when a pixie walks up and pets his head. Sportacus sticks out his tongue since Robbie hadn’t given him a tail. Glanni walks up then, lowering to Sportacus’ height.

 

“Nice dog. Is he housebroken?”

 

The stopwatch times out, and Robbie vanishes them back to the roof. He sets all the dog material out, letting it disappear. He keeps a smile on his face, while Sportacus is obviously mortified.

 

“Yeah, yeah. It wasn’t so funny. Truth or dare, Robin.”

 

“Truth.”

 

“What was your first kiss like?”

 

Now, Robin flushes. He glances to the cider, but, against all odds, he decides to humor the elf. “I was eleven, and I liked this nymph boy who lived in this old abandoned library. He was thirteen, and he had been dating these sprite girls. He was teasing me about not liking any of the girls in Mayhem Town, finally asking me if there was anyone I didn’t have a complaint about. I don’t know what came over me, but I leaned in and kissed him. And then… my braces caught his bottom lip and we had to stay like that until he got back to my house and his mother could separate us.”

 

Sportacus’ eyes widen. “That… was unexpected.”

 

Robbie shrugs. “Eh, what’re you gonna do? Truth or dare?”

 

“Uh, truth.”

 

Robbie moves a little closer, letting his voice drop an octave. “Spit or swallow?”

 

Sportacus blanches and grabs his cider. Robbie sits back, triumphant. “T-truth or dare, Robin?”

 

“Truth.”

 

The elf bites his bottom lip. “Are you a top or a bottom?”

 

Robin’s eyes widen, not expecting that question to come out of the elf’s mouth. “Top. I like the control.” Sport nods. “Truth or dare, Ten?”

 

“Definitely truth.”

 

“If I were one of your _sportscandies_ , which would I be? _And_ , how would you eat me?”

 

Sportacus’ face grows completely red. He wants to answer, but he just _can’t_. He takes another gulp of cider, finally feeling the effects. “Truth or dare?”

 

“ _Dare_.”

 

“I dare you to ride me like a horse.”

 

Robbie’s eyes bulge out, almost choking on air. Instead, he grabs his wine and swallows a good few gulps in one go. “Holy shit. Truth or dare?”

 

“D-dare.”

 

Robbie also feels some of the tipsy effects. His mouth forms words before his brain can comprehend. “Kiss me on the lips.”

 

Sportacus sets the cider to the side. He crawls in front of the faerie and leans in. Robbie leans in as well, and Sportacus closes the distance. The kiss is soft and sweet, nothing like Robbie has ever felt before. He nibbles on the elf’s tongue just a tad, and Sportacus can feel the surge of magic and glamour flow between them as Sportacus is the first to separate. Both boys are blushing with goofy smiles on their faces. The glamour wavers along Robbie’s eyes, letting the silver filter in for only a few seconds. In those seconds, Robbie’s glamour almost completely disappears, and Sportacus is left slack-jawed.

 

 _No, this is Robin. Not Robbie. He just looks like him. Maybe they’re cousins or something. Or he’s a doppelganger like Stephanie talked about. Robbie’s not a faerie._ Sportacus shakes his head, giggling nervously. “Uh, uh, truth or dare?”

 

“Dare me something, Ten.”

 

“Uh, tell me a roses are red poem.”

 

Robbie raises an eyebrow, but he grabs Sport’s hands in his. “Roses are red, violets are blue. I like spaghetti. Let’s go fuck.”

 

Sportacus gasps at the profanity. _Sounds like something my Robbie would say._ “That, uh, doesn’t rhyme.”

 

“Freestyle.” Robbie shrugs. “Your turn.”

 

“Truth.” Sportacus licks his lips.

 

“Have you ever streaked?”

 

Sportacus winces. He takes another drink of cider, making it to be true. He just doesn’t want to explain himself. “Your turn now.”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Have you ever kissed someone your brother was dating?”

 

“Eh, Glanni doesn’t really _date_.” Robbie answers nonchalantly. “But, yes, I’ve kissed a few of the guys he’d fucked when they came out of the bedroom.”

 

Sportacus chokes a little on air, not sure where to go from there. “I, uh…”

 

“Your turn, Sports Elf.”

 

“I can, uh, do another dare.”

 

“I dare you to go downstairs and try talking one of your brothers into having sex with me.”

 

Sportacus’ eyes bulge farther in disbelief. He takes another sip of cider, feeling dizzy now. _If this is Robbie, I need to have a talk with him back in Lazytown._ “Truth or dare, Robin?”

 

Robin lies on the blanket, staring up at the stars. “Truth.”

 

“What kind of person do you want to marry someday?”

 

“Eh, I guess it’d be someone I can really talk to. Someone who has their own thing to do quietly while I work on my machines. Someone who doesn’t worry over me not getting much sleep but holds me when I do. Someone who makes me happy.”

 

“That sounds nice.” The blonde elf comments serenely, lying down beside him. _Machines? Kids in school? Not much sleep? This… he has to be Robbie. And… he must not know I’m me. But if I tell him now, he’ll probably just get mad._

 

“Yeah…” Robbie smiles. “It’s your turn.”

 

“Truth sounds nice.”

 

Realizing that the game is veering off, Robbie tries to change the topic a little. “What color is your underwear?”

 

“I’m not wearing any.”

 

Robbie squeaks despite already knowing this. “Give me another truth.”

 

“Are you carrying any condoms?” Sportacus’ mouth works on autopilot, blushing after saying what he does.

 

Robbie scoffs. “I’m _magic_.” He snaps his fingers, bringing two condoms to appear in his hand. “I’m _always_ packing condoms. Truth or dare, Ten.”

 

“Truth.” Sport rests his head on his hand, looking over at the faerie.

 

“How far would you go with someone you just met?”


End file.
